Mark of Betrayal (Dark Secrets #3)(160)
Author: A.M. Hudson

“But, wouldn’t they be able to tell it’s here—I mean, there’d be a gap between the end of the manor outside and where the walls end inside.”

“You didn’t notice a gap.”

“Touché.”

“Besides, I suspect all the rooms on this end of the manor end short to allow for this passage—no one would notice a few inches if it was consistent.”

“But, it’s not big enough to take up a whole room.” I reached out and touched both walls at the same time.

“It doesn’t.”

“It does in Jason’s room—he only has one window, remember?”

“Right.” He rubbed his chin. “Clever girl. I didn’t think of that.”

“Neither did I. Jase did.”

He stood taller. “Can you stop calling him that, please?”

“What?”

“Jase,” he said in a mock girl’s voice. “It’s immensely irritating.”

“Why? It’s just a name.”

“It’s not the name I have a problem with; it’s the affectionate undertone, the big dough eyes and the way your voice softens on the end, Ara.”

“It so does not.”

He groaned, shaking his head, and wandered down the stairs, rapping on the inside walls.

“David?” I ran down after him.

“Look.” He stopped and turned to face me. “I know how you are, Ara. We’ve always had to deal with this.”

“With what?”

“You and…other guys. You get too close. You get too caught up, and…you’re not a child anymore, my love. You just can’t behave that way now.”

“I’m trying, David.”

“Trying isn’t enough. It stops. All the flirting, all the mucking about, all the looking at other guys. From this moment on, you will not ‘hang out with’, notice, smile at or even think about a guy, unless it’s me.”

“So, I can’t even have guy friends, now?”

“No.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Yes, I can.”

“No. You can’t! You’re not the boss of me.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Since when?” I put my hands on my hips.

“Since I married you. Discussion closed.” He turned away.

“No! I’m allowed to have friends, David. And it’s twisted and sick that you would even say something like that.”

He stopped, sighing heavily. “Look, I know, okay. But I have to be more careful with you than I did with other girls, Ara. You can’t keep yourself in check. You don’t know how to control yourself.”

“I do, David. Okay, maybe I’m a little closer with Jase-on, than I should be, but I can stop that. I can make distance between us, but you can’t tell me what I can and cannot do.” I made myself a little taller. “I love you, but I won’t stand for that.”

He groaned again and started down the stairs, banging around, searching for something.

“David, are you mad at me?”

“No,” he said in short. “If anything, I’m mad at my brother.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want him to love you. I understand why he does; how can he not?” He presented me with a flat palm. “But I don’t like it.”

I looked down at my feet then back up, grinning. “I can be a bitch to him, if you like. I can make him hate me.”

He laughed. “No, you couldn’t. You’re not capable of that. Just…just be careful, okay?”

I reached out, and he placed his hand in mine. “Okay. I’ll stop calling him Jase.”

He smiled to himself, but it was weak. “And, can you just…”

“Just?” I prompted him out of his pause.

“If I was ever…if Drake ever…” He cleared his throat.

“David? Don’t.”

“No. I need to say this.” He put his hand up between us. “If I was ever not around for any reason, you…just…not my brother, okay?”

I nodded. “Okay. But it’s not an issue, we’re immortal.”

“I know.”

“So, who then?” I asked, following him down the stairs. “Hypothetically, if you ever got hit by a car and died, who would you choose for me?”

He cleared his throat again, grinning when he pushed on the wall and it gave way, revealing a door. “To be honest?”

I nodded.

“No one. Ever.” He shoved the door open and it creaked over my shock. “Get a cat.”

I laughed nervously, squeezing his hand as we stepped into the greyish darkness of a shadowy room. The musty smell of dust dried my nostrils out, and my eyes shot straight to the boarded windows, blocking out all light, all life. The room was cold, ghostly, a bedroom clearly cut in half by the wall of Jason’s room; a doll house, a small table laid out with a tea-set, and a few other things had been shoved aside, sitting awkwardly in a cluster by the four-poster bed. Wooden stars, painted gold, hung down from hooks in the roof above it, and an old round rug, grey with dust, cradled the rail of a wooden rocking horse; its mane streaked in purples, golds and blues. On a shelf by the wall where we stood was a collection of expressionless dolls, copper-eyed bears, tiny lace gloves and other trinkets.

“I know what this is,” David said, walking across the room.

“A child’s bedroom?”

“Yes,” he said, tugging a board on the window. “But not just any child—it was Lilith’s first daughter.”

My mouth dropped.

David chuckled, tossing the plank of wood aside, and light peeled into the room all around me, showing dancing motes of dust, woken from centuries of slumber or hiding. The bedcovers were still ruffled, once slept in, and right between the window and the fireplace, an old chair sat proudly, a book still open in place on the seat.

I ran my fingers over every surface, touching the detailed carvings in the foot of the bed, running my hand down the post, feeling the presence of my ancestors.

“This room must be centuries old.”

“I’d say so,” David muttered, nodding at the torn curtains around the bedposts, nearly worn away to nothing but silvery webs.

I reached across and plucked a small ragdoll from between the pillows, standing up again to look at her; she was loved once. But someone came in here, took away that little girl and she never saw this place again. Never outgrew her toys, never heard the end of that story—never even crawled back into bed.